You’re only as old as the woman you feel .... or so Don Diego hopes. In El sí de las niñas (The Maidens’ Consent) the young and beautiful Francisca is to be subjected to an arranged marriage with Don Diego, a man old enough to be her grandfather. But things are more complicated than this. Francisca may have led a sheltered life in a convent, but when it comes to love she has her own ideas. Caught between her true feelings and filial duty, Francisca must decide whether to acquiesce to a marriage she does not want, or to risk everything by following her heart.

Synopsis

El sí de las niñas (The Maidens’ Consent) is made up of three acts that take place over one night in an inn. At the beginning of the play Don Diego, a 60-year-old wealthy gentleman, is waiting to meet 16-year-old Francisca for the first time. A marriage between the two has been arranged. Don Diego is well aware that his age may not make him the most attractive of husbands for a young girl. Because of this, when she arrives with her mother – the talkative Doña Irene – he is keen to learn what Francisca thinks about the arrangement. However, Francisca voices no opinion, preferring simply to curtsey prettily. Instead, Don Diego is forced to endure the garrulousness of her mother. Doña Irene insists that her daughter is as happy as can be about the match, although in private she upbraids Francisca for saying nothing.

Meanwhile, Rita, Francisca’s maid and confidante, has unexpectedly met Calamocha in the inn. She knows this servant well ... his master is Francisca’s true love, Don Felix. Don Felix is the real reason why Francisca has been reluctant to enthuse about her impending marriage. Despite her apparent simplicity, she has a very clear idea about whom she loves and what she wants. In fact, she has written to Don Felix in the hope that he can prevent her marriage to Don Diego. In response, her beloved has hastened to the inn. As act 1 ends, Francisca is given a glimmer of hope that things might be resolved to her advantage.

In act 2 Don Diego tries once again to find out what Francisca really thinks of their possible union. However, despite his efforts, Francisca continues to say little other than that she loves her mother and will obey her. In her heart, Francisca is torn between her desire to please Doña Irene and her love for Don Felix. However the situation is about to become even more complex: unbeknownst to Francisca, the man she calls ‘Don Felix’ is in fact Don Carlos; unbeknownst to Don Carlos, Francisca is betrothed to his uncle Don Diego. It seems that the young couple are destined never to be together.

Later in act 2 Don Carlos and his servant Calamocha unexpectedly meet Don Diego’s manservant, Simon, in the inn. Both Don Carlos and Simon pretend that their presence there has absolutely nothing to do with Francisca. Simon is evasive about Don Diego’s whereabouts. Inevitably, however, Don Carlos and his uncle soon come face-to-face. Shocked at his nephew’s arrival, Don Diego demands that he leave straight away. Just as Francisca feels obliged to obey her mother, it seems Don Carlos will submit to Don Diego and leave his young love to her fate. As act 2 ends Francisca is thrown into a state of despair as she learns that Don Carlos has left. Unaware of the real reason for his departure, she believes she has been cruelly abandoned.

In act 3 night has truly fallen and most of the inn’s residents are asleep. But Don Diego and Simon are still awake. As they talk together they suddenly hear music and singing that has erupted in the streets below. Startled, in the darkness the two men watch as Francisca and Rita rush to the window to listen. It is Don Carlos! He manages to exchange a few words with Francisca and throws a letter through the open window. However, before she can retrieve it, Francisca is startled by Simon and runs off to hide. Simon picks up the letter and delivers it to Don Diego who reads it and learns of Francisca’s secret love. He instructs Simon to chase after Don Carlos and bring him back to the inn. It appears that a duel between nephew and uncle is imminent. Instead, when Don Carlos returns he tells his uncle about how he first met Francisca. Knowing she was poor, Don Carlos pretended his name was Don Felix so as to hide his wealthy background. In this way, he was able to ascertain that Francisca loved him, rather than his money. Despite his nephew’s evident love for Francisca, Don Diego remains adamant that he will marry her. Obediently, Don Carlos concedes defeat, but not before reminding his uncle that Francisca will never love him; she will always hold her beloved ‘Don Felix’ in her heart.

Gradually as daylight comes the characters’ secrets are revealed. Francisca learns that her true love is Don Diego’s nephew; Doña Irene discovers that her daughter has fallen in love with another man. More importantly, the scales finally lift from Don Diego’s eyes. He realises that filial duty has led an innocent girl to lie and repress her own feelings. In an act of self-sacrifice, he relinquishes his claim over Francisca and gives his blessing for her to marry his nephew.

Sources

In act 1 scene 1 Don Diego’s manservant Simon refers to the ‘last war’ in which Don Carlos fought bravely. This probably refers to Spain’s invasion of Portugal on behalf of France (which was then being ruled by Napoleon Bonaparte) at the very beginning of the eighteenth century. This invasion was one of the precursors to the Peninsular War (1808-14) fought between the allied forces of Spain and France on one side, and Portugal and the United Kingdom on the other.

In act 1 scene 1 Simon mentions that Don Carlos was awarded the Cross of the Order of Alcántara for his military endeavours. This is a Spanish military medal that was first awarded by the Order of Alcántara in the twelfth century.

In act 1 scene 2 Francisca is happy because she has been given The Rule of Saint Benedict. This is a book of Catholic precepts given to monks and nuns providing religious instruction concerning communal living in a monastery or convent.

In act 1 scene 2 there is a reference to ‘los Verdes’ (‘the Greens’). This refers to the theological institution, the Colegio de Santa Catalina o de los Verdes in Alcalá de Henares. The shortened version of the name relates to the green colour of the robes worn by those belonging to this college.

In act 1 scene 8 Don Carlos’s servant Calamocha emphasises his master’s love for Francisca that made him rush to the inn in Alcalá de Henares. He mentions three well-known figures from Spanish literary tradition who fought for the woman they love: the ‘Moor Gazul’; Medoro; and Galiferos.

Critical response

General

The first production of El sí de las niñas (The Maidens’ Consent) in 1806 was a huge success with the public. It ran for 26 successive performances in Madrid, which was an unusually long run for a play at that time. The popularity of the play among the public initially made critics reluctant to criticise it. Nevertheless, the play was censored by the Spanish Inquisition and performances of it were banned for almost 20 years between 1815 and 1834.

Academic

Marsha S. Collins calls the play ‘the literary masterpiece of the Spanish Enlightenment’ (2002: 582). She points out that, although by modern standards Moratín’s dramatisation of the position of women in society seems antiquated, in the early nineteenth century it was challenging in that, through it, Moratín was advocating that women should have a say in their future and whom they married. She also notes that Moratín’s women are always presented as complex individuals with feelings as real and worthy of note as their male counterparts.

In their edition of the play, John Clarkson Dowling and René Andioc state that the staging of the play was notable at the time because it was relatively uncomplicated compared to the ‘long and meticulous’ descriptions that characterised many contemporary works (1968: 164 n.3).They state that the scenography is ‘entirely subordinate to the plot and therefore is confined to what is strictly necessary’ (1968: 164 n.3).

In his review of Juan Carratalá's 1990 publication of the play text, John Dowling notes the effective use of light in the play to symbolically reflect the action on stage:

Moratín’s feeling for the stage is exemplified in his subtle use of light in conjunction with the action of the play, which begins at twilight: as the situation for the lovers grows bleaker, the lighting grows dimmer until the stage lies in utter darkness. Then, as a glimmer of hope appears in the action, dawn breaks so that the dénouement takes place in full daylight. (1992: 228)